


Hold On

by halseam (orphan_account)



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 03:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/halseam
Summary: Everyone has a timer for when they shall first meet their soulmate. Just Connor’s luck when the timer shuts off on his first day of senior year.





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot for tumblr user- I truly don’t remember I deleted the ask  
> Follow me on tumblr at halseam and halseamhllow

Connor woke up as soon the sun began rising. Ah yes, five in the morning, an amazing time to wake up on your first day of senior year and last day alive. He spends a few minutes simply staring at the ceiling blankly, a tiny ticking sound echoing at the back of his mind. Accepting the fact that, yes, he will never be able to fall back asleep, he stands up and wipes the hair from his face, grabbing his tin from the dresser and silently creeping out into the backyard.  
There, he sits on one of the benches smoking, waiting for the time on his phone to turn to 6:50, when he would go inside and listen to his mom wake up and begin her daily routine. His mind is blank and the ticking sound is gone, yet the numbers on his wrist are still there.  
God what he would do to get rid of the numbers. Each time he wakes up on his birthday, his mom asks him about the numbers. “What are they at now?” “How much longer?” “I sure hope you find her this year!” Ah yes, because Connor Murphy is definitely heterosexual. Women, man, they’re just the greatest. Boobs! Wow, amazing.  
His head feels spacey and floatey, so it feels like only a few minutes have passed by the time he’s at the breakfast table staring blankly into a bowl of cereal, his mom fussing over everything- refilling coffee, pouring more orange juice, taking away dirty dishes.  
“Big day, hey, Connor?”  
“Yep,”  
She sees the look in his eyes. “It’s your senior year, Connor, you are not missing the first day,”  
“Look, I said I’d go tomorrow. I’m trying to find a compromise here.”  
She goes on to bug Larry, who makes less than half an effort on her part, which leads to Zoe accusing him of being high.  
“Oh, fuck you.” Connor lets his head fall in his folded arms.  
“Fuck you,” Zoe calls back with a mouth full of cereal.  
Cynthia then goes on to _not_ accuse him of being high, to which instead of proving her right, he proves Zoe right.  
He leaves the room, pulling his rucksack along with him. Then he’s being dragged out the door and placed in the car by Cynthia and she’s driving her kids to school. He stares out the window to passing trees and his mind drifts off to the stash of pills in his drawer next to his socks. What he would do to get to them right now. No, he can’t. First, he’s being dropped off at school. Second, it’s too dangerous. Cynthia will be home until noon, then gone until four. That’s when he’ll do it. Ditch at lunch hour. Sounds like a plan.  
And so he walks inside, hands gripping his messenger bag so tightly his knuckles turn white as he walks through the halls with whispers muttered about him. Not at him, no, about him to other people. “I thought he got expelled?” “He usually skips the first day.” “I thought he would’ve, y’know... over the break.”  
He’s used to the whispers by now, that still doesn’t mean they don’t still piss him off to Pluto and back. But, god, of course someone needs to actually _call_ something at him.  
“Hey, Connor! Loving the new hair length, very school shooter chic,”  
Connor glares at Kleinman. He hears that insult all the time, but they’re always in little whispers and genuine fear, not loudly in the hall and with a grin on their face.  
“It, it was a joke,”  
“Yeah, no it was funny.” Connor advances a few steps. “Am i not laughing hard enough for you? Ha-fucking-ha,”  
Kleinman turns around with a raised eyebrow, leaving another boy in a striped blue polo pathetically standing there. He lets out a small laugh.  
“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Connor takes another few steps forward, to the other. He obviously catches him off guard. “Stop fucking laughing at me,”  
“No, I’m not-“  
“Oh, you think I’m the freak?”  
“No, I-I don’t,”  
“I’m not the freak, you’re the fucking freak.”  
He’s rushing through the hall after pushing the other to the ground, shoving people out of the way on his travel to the out-of-order bathroom. It’s the only place he can really go, everywhere else has people and he can’t go home because Cynthia is there. He slams one of the stall doors shut and kicks the wall, leaning his forehead on it silently only a few seconds later.  
“Connor, what the hell?” Zoe’s voice rings in through the silence. She sounds angry and confused and disappointed.  
“Fuck off.”  
“No, tell me what happened. That was completely uncalled for, alright? The kid has a broken arm and you push him to the ground like he’s a ragdoll?”  
“He was fucking laughing at me with Kleinman,”  
“Okay, and?! Still not a good reason to push him to the floor, you idiot,”  
Connor pulls the stall door open and flips Zoe off before closing it again.  
“I expect you to apologize to him sometime today. Or, just do something nice. Sign his cast or some shit, no one else has. His name is Evan Hansen, by the way.” He can hear the door back into the hallway open and close again, Zoe muttering something else under her breath.  
She might have a good idea. Do something nice before he’s gone forever. He decides on following Hansen somewhere, anywhere, and signing his cast. It’s not an original idea, but it’s the best he can come up with. A dark blue wall has never looked so interesting through the silence.  
Silence.  
Wait, what? Where’s the annoying tick, tick, tick, that’s constantly at the back of his mind? It seems too quiet without it there, he can hear himself breathing in and out without being interrupted by a clock. His eyes widen and shoot straight to his wrist. He takes up the sleeve and stares at the numbers. -00y/00m/00d/00h/08m it says. A groan forms in the back of his throat and he wipes his face with his palm. Where was he eight minutes ago? What- _Kleinman_.  
He sighs. No, Kleinman had already left eight minutes ago. He was- yelling at Hansen. Of course. This is just his luck, getting paired up by the _magical grand scheme of the universe_ with Hansen, a kid he doesn’t even know.  
His shoulders suddenly feel heavy and his throat is dry. May as well start heading to home room, the bell is going to ring in less than a minute.  
Hansen is the only other one in the computer lab when Connor enters slowly. The printer begins whirring as Hansen logs out of one of the computers and gnaws on his thumbnail, Connor grabbing the paper from the printer so he has an excuse to speak to Hansen.  
“So, uh, how’d you break your arm?” Connor asks, Hansen jumping at the sudden break of silence.  
“Oh, I, uh, I fell out of a tree, actually,” Hansen cradles his broken arm. It’s a sad sight, even sadder considering no ones signed it.  
“You fell out of a tree?” Connor raises an eyebrow and can’t help but laugh. “Well, that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, oh my god,”  
Hansen laughs along awkwardly. “Yeah...”  
They stand in a tense silence for a few seconds. “No ones signed your cast?” Connor points out.  
“Yeah, no, I know,”  
“I’ll sign it.” He shrugs, acting nonchalant but inside he’s panicking.  
“Oh, no, you don’t have to...”  
“Do you have a Sharpie?”  
Hansen digs around in his pocket and pulls out a shiny new Sharpie, placing it in Connor’s hand. Connor takes Hansen’s arm, probably too rough, considering it emits a small ‘ow’ from Hansen. He signs his name is big black letters, making sure to fill up the entire cast so Hansen doesn’t feel as sad.  
Hansen eyes the name. “Oh, thanks.”  
“Yeah, well, now we can both pretend that we have friends, right?”  
Hansen nods silently and heads for the printer, getting stopped by Connor quickly.  
“Is this yours? I saw it on the printer. Evan, that’s your name right? Evan Hansen?” Connor glances down at the paper and spots, “because there’s Zoe? And all my hope is pinned on Zoe?”  
“Oh, no, sorry, that’s just-“ Hansen takes the top of the paper in his good hand. “I thought that I- uh- but now! Please can you just give it back to me, I need it, please,”  
Instead of giving it back, Connor reads on and tightens his grip. “Shit, you’re as fucked up as me,”  
Hansen’s eyes widen somehow even more as Connor’s words. Connor lightens his grip and lets Hansen take it. Hansen begins running out for the lunch hour before being stopped by Connor.  
“Hey, uh, I noticed something this morning.” He says. “The numbers. When I looked at mine they said negative eight minutes or some shit. I thought what I was doing and I, I was yelling at you,”  
“O-okay,” Hansen replies, obviously uncomfortable.  
“Hey, if you wanna, like, talk or some shit, can I give you my number? That letter just made my brain go ‘fuck’.”  
Hansen blushes a deep crimson and nods, shakily taking his weird, off-brand cell phone from his backpack and giving it to Connor. Connor enters his number and name and hands the phone back, walking out of the computer lab quickly while Hansen just stands there, completely still and saying nothing.  
“Hey, uh, thanks,” Hansen says right before Connor is completely out of earshot. “See you, uh, see you tomorrow?”  
Connor nods. “Yeah, sounds good,”  
He only walks a few steps before realising that he needs to show up tomorrow, for Hansen’s sake. The walk back home isn’t full of his family’s happy faces when they find him dead, instead Hansens crumpling when they announce it on the loudspeaker. He has a gut feeling that’s what would happen, although they’ve only had one civil conversation, it simply seems like something Hansen would do.  
Connor runs a hand over his face then runs it through his hair. Gotta hold on for at least another day. Great.


End file.
